Emerald Tears and Dragon Blood
by Hepzheba
Summary: Harry's crying and Draco wants to comfort him, but doesn't know what to say. Draco's POV.


**Title: **Emerald Tears and Dragon Blood

**Author: **Hepzheba

**Rating: **T/PG-13

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Harry Potter, nor Draco Malfoy. If I did they'd be making hot, sweet love through all books. Or at least the last ones.

**Summary: **Harry's crying and Draco wants to comfort him, but doesn't know what to say. Draco's POV.

**A/N: **Written for a year ago, if my memory doesn't mess with me (wouldn't be the first time). Some inspiration came from Annie Lennox' _Into the West _(once again if I remember it correctly.)  
Please review, 'cause that way you'll totally make my day. No flames, though, that'll make me cry.

* * *

_Why do you weep?_

I sit and watch you cry. Emotionless. At least on the outside. My inside cries with you. It hurt so much. I want to comfort you, but what is there to say?

_Do not cry..._

Feeble comfort, isn't it? I don't even say anything, I just watch. I doubt that I could say something even if I wanted. My mouth is dry.

You look up. Your green eyes dig into me, do you see my soul? It feels like you can. I look away. Embarrassed. Why am I embarrassed? I'm not the one with swollen eyes. I want you to say something to me, lay your hand on my arm and show me that you do want my comfort. But you do nothing. Neither do I. I hear you sob, but I do not look at you. Why? Is it so hard to raise my eyes and look at you? Is it so hard to hug you, hold you close to me, show you that I care? Yes. For me it is. I can not. God knows I want to, but I am afraid. Afraid of what you may say or think.

_Please talk to me._

I turn my head. You don't look at me anymore. You're looking down in the floor. You sob again. As if you don't want to cry. As if you are ashamed. Are you? You don't have to be. I think you are brave. I am weak. I want to cry, but I can't. I want to comfort you, but I do not have the courage to do that.

_Please, give me a sign that you want me here._

I just sit here. Do not dare to look at you for too long. Hear you sob. I don't even know why you cry. I feel my heart aching, hurting. I swallow hard, I do not want to cry. Not in front of you, not in front of anyone. Want the tears to go away. Why do I feel this way? I don't like it, but yet I feel this way.

You look up at me when I look at you. Your eyes are so filled with pain and suffer. I want to know why you cry. Not so I can mock you about it but because I care. Do you know that? Do you know that I care more about you than anyone else? Do you know that I cry, alone in my bed, each night because you don't like me? You don't know how my wrists look because of you. Yes, it is because of you. The thought of not having you drives me mad, insane. I can not stand it so I cut myself. With a razorblade or whatever sharp things I have.

_Please, do not weep, I can not stand it. Your tears... so beautiful, but yet so painful._

Why does it hurt me? You are the one who cries, why am I the one who feel pain? Did you know that there are different forms of pain? I do know. There is one pain when your father hits you. It stings and you cry. He hits you more. Because you cry, you are not allowed to cry. And there is a pain in your soul when he hits you.

And then there is the pain when you cut your wrist, I mean the physical pain now, there is a psychological pain too, and it hurts even more than the physical. It is that pain, the psychological pain, that makes me do these things to myself, to my own weak body. That pain that you have created, without knowing you have. That pain is the worst of all pain. Love, I believe they call it. I do not understand how that can be love, though. I don't believe in that kind of love. I believe in the kind of love I feel for my mother, the love she feels for me. That is love. But this... I don't even know what it is. But I doubt it is love. Love should not hurt so much, love should not make you hurt yourself. Love is something good. Not for me. Love is death.

You open your mouth, as if you are going to say something. But close it again. Why? Why do you not tell me what you were going to say? Is it that hard?

_Please, talk to me. Say something._

But you say nothing. Silence. So awkward and obvious. I want to say something, just to make that silence go away. But there is nothing I can say. The silence forces me.

"Why... why do you weep?" I ask.

Right after the words have left my lips I realise how stupid I am. I should not ask you that. It will only make you cry even more.

"Cause I love you" you say.

I don't know how we find each other, but the moment after you are in my arms. Or I am in yours, it does not matter which. We are together, that is all that matters.

"I love you" you whisper.

The words stay with me. Forever in my heart. I will never forget them.

"I love you" I whisper back.

You hug me tighter.

_I love you..._

I have waited so long to say those words. So long it hurts. I close my eyes. Disappear into a dream. Wake up. Realise that I am alone in my bed. My heart hurts. Just a dream. Did I believe it was something else? Reality? Was I so stupid that I thought that this happened in the reality?

_It hurts even more now, when I once had you and then lost you._

I rise and found that razorblade. My salvation. Stupid salvation, really. I cut. Swiftly. The pain in my wrist does not bother me. It did the first times, but not anymore. After years you get used to it. But I guess you don't even know how it feels. You are so perfect that you don't cut yourself. Only stupid people do these things. I am stupid. I cut again, and again, and watch the blood run over my wrist. It feels good. I don't even realise that I cry.

_What are tears, say? Your tears are beautiful, mine is pathetic._

I caress my wrist, full of scars and blood and wounds. All because of you. You make me do these things. I should hate you, I really should, but I don't.

_Blood is beautiful. I guess yours are even more beautiful._

I have blood on my fingers now. Red. So red. Beautiful. Pathetic. I like that word. It describes me so well. I am pathetic. You are not pathetic. You are perfect. I lay down on my bed again. Close my eyes and see you in front of me. Beautiful, peaceful, angelic. I know that you are an angel. I see that in you eyes. In your face. In you. Am I not pathetic? I know that I am. I fall down into my own dream land again. With you again. Always you. Never anyone else. You smile at me. Happy this time. I know it is just a dream, but right now I don't care.

I will wake up again and cut myself. But I am too used to that to care.

_Love is nothing good. Love is tears, pain and blood. And yet I love you._


End file.
